Of Fates And Phantoms (The Ministry of Curiosities #7)(49)

"I'll be off now," he said as Lincoln returned the pen to the stand. "Give my regards to your friend, miss. Tell her if she wants to go for a run again to come see me. There won't be no initiations with me. She won't have to do nothing she don't want to. Just run."

"Thank you, Mr. Gawler," I said, offering up a weak smile. "I'll pass on your message."

Lincoln saw him out just as Doyle drove the coach around. With Seth and Gus too injured, he'd volunteered to drive us to the palace. I secretly suspected he wanted to glimpse the elegance of the place, even if only from the outside.

Lincoln assisted me into the cabin then ordered Doyle to drive on once we settled. We sat in silence for a moment until Lincoln broke it. "You have something you wish to ask me," he said.

Sometimes, his ability to know what I was thinking unnerved me. "I'll just come out and say it. Lincoln, if you had a hand in King's death … if you ordered it, I want you to know that I understand why. You don't have to lie to me." 

"I didn't do it, nor did I order it, but I don't blame you for jumping to that conclusion, considering my past."

I blew out a breath, more relieved than I expected to be. King had been thoroughly unlikable and was incredibly dangerous; not only because of his own power to change into multiple forms but because of the power he held over his pack. They would have done anything for him, including committing murder.

"I assume the man paying King to impersonate the prince consort did it," Lincoln went on. "Or possibly Gillingham. It wouldn't surprise me if he ordered King's murder out of revenge."

"It wouldn't surprise me either. Gillingham doesn't like to lose. He's a fool if he did order it, though. We needed to follow King to learn about the man paying him."

"Yes," Lincoln said with a measure of frustration unlike I'd heard in his voice before. No doubt he regretted not taking care of the situation himself. "I'll have a word with him later and see what I can learn."

"I do hope Harriet's all right and he hasn't locked her away again."

"We can visit her after we leave the palace, if you like."

I shook my head. "I don't wish to be turned away. I'll write to her."

We fell into silence, and my mind wandered to the task at hand, and to my recent conversation with the prince. I plucked at my skirts as I considered how best to broach the subject with Lincoln.

"Something's on your mind," he began. When I nodded but didn't go on, he moved to sit beside me. He gripped the edge of the seat. "Tell me, Charlie. Please, just get it over with."

"You seem very earnest. Very well." I blew out a breath. "The Prince of Wales talked about you last night."

"The prince?" he echoed, dully.

"Yes. You and Leisl. Perhaps he felt he could talk to me about your relationship more easily than he could talk to you, and knowing how close we are, he trusted me."

"I don't wish to hear it." His face shuttered, as it did when he was determined not to show any emotion.

"You have to. They're your parents, Lincoln, whether you like it or not. The prince told me that he was captivated by Leisl's beauty at a fair where she told fortunes." It wasn't quite how he'd put it, but I thought it a reasonable explanation for his actions.

"He regretted it later, I assume," Lincoln said.

"In a way." He had nothing to say to that so I added, "He was very interested in your welfare and upbringing."

"How much did you tell him?"

"Only that you had an excellent education but your childhood was somewhat lacking in affection. I mentioned that you had never met Leisl until the night of the Hothfield's ball."

"And I have no plans to see her again."

I sighed. "Lincoln, don't be so hasty with your decision. She's your mother. You may not feel any connection to her, but I doubt she can set aside thoughts of you so easily. She must have wondered how you fared over the years. I cannot begin to know how she felt when she saw you at the ball."

He had turned to look out the window as I spoke, presenting me with his hard profile. I turned the other way, not prepared to sympathize with him on this. I did feel for Leisl. I may never have been a mother, but I'd seen women forced to give up their children because they were too poor to keep them, and it had devastated them. Most never recovered.

Fog hung low over the skeletal trees of St. James Park, a canvas of ominous clouds behind them. It would rain later, perhaps even snow. I tried to think about that, and the book I'd curl up with by the fire, and not the man beside me.



       
         
       
        

"It's possible that she did not want me," he said quietly.

My concentration shattered. "Leisl?"

He nodded, although he still did not look at me. "I think she saw me in a vision, before my conception, and knew what her role had to be. I think she sought out the prince not because she desired him but because she knew he was the piece needed to bring the vision to life."

"You think her that calculated?"

"Only she can answer that."

"Let's say it's true," I said. "Let's say her vision made her aware of what needed to be done … that doesn't mean she never cared for you, and has no interest in how you turned out."

"It's best left the way it is. There's no point in pursuing a relationship with her if we've got this far without one."

I gave his point careful consideration, but in the end, I couldn't agree. I took his hand in mine, but when he still didn't look at me, I touched his jaw. He finally turned my way and gave me the full force of his frostiest glare. It used to chill me, but no more. "Lincoln, you never knew you wanted a relationship with me in the beginning, and look how that's changed, in time. Don't dismiss her yet."

He sighed. "Next you'll be telling me to call the prince Papa."

I smiled. "One step at a time."

We arrived at the palace and a footman led us to the queen's private apartments where we'd met her last time. The Prince of Wales was with her, standing by her side. They looked as if they were an ordinary mother and son sitting for a portrait, her in widow's weeds and he in a modest charcoal gray suit and tie.

"Miss Holloway," the queen said. "I'm so pleased to see you again. Are you here to speak with my husband's spirit? Bertie wouldn't tell me."

I glanced at the prince. He looked a little sheepish but unrepentant. So he was leaving it up to us to tell her.

"No," I said. "We were summoned here to report on our investigation into the imposter."

She blinked and looked away "It's cold in here. My shawl, Bertie."

The prince plucked a black shawl off the back of a chair and draped it around her shoulders. "You remember the conversation we had about that man," he said, impatience tightening his voice. "Miss Holloway and Mr. Fitzroy have been investigating. It turns out that the man had an unusual quality. He was able to change his appearance to look like anyone."

Was? Had? How did he know King was dead?

The queen held the shawl's edges at her throat with white knuckled fingers. "Did he admit to impersonating my husband?" Her voice sounded frail, old. It was easy to forget that she ruled the most powerful country in the world. 

"Yes," Lincoln said. "The man known as King admitted his trickery, although it's possible he was paid to do it, ma'am."

"Can't you ask him?"

"I did. He denied it. Now he's dead."

I watched the prince carefully. He gave no reaction, not even a flicker of his lashes. "I cannot even ask his spirit," I said. "If I don't see it rise at the time of death, I must know his full name to summon him back. Everyone knew him only as King."

"So he is gone," she said, her voice quavering. "And I am alone again."

"Not alone," the prince said. "You have your children and grandchildren, your ladies."

"It's not the same."

The prince sighed. "We wish to thank you," he said to us. "It cannot have been easy." He nodded at Lincoln's bandaged hand and the bruises on his face. "Were there any casualties?" He spoke as if it had been war. I suppose, in a way, it had been a battle.

"Two of my men suffered broken bones and bruising. They'll recover."

"Please pass on my thanks for their service to the crown. It's pleasing to know that we have such loyal and capable subjects protecting us against the supernatural."

"Not all supernatural people are dangerous," I said. "I, for one, am not."

"Of course. But we must be vigilant. Your ministry is all that stands between order and chaos."

I glanced at Lincoln, but he remained unmoved.

"Is there anything the ministry requires?" the prince asked. "Funds? Resources?"

"From what source?" Lincoln asked, rather boldly, I thought.

The prince, however, seemed unperturbed. Perhaps he liked directness. "The public purse."

"That would require an act of parliament to be passed, and the ministry would become public knowledge. Is that wise, your highness?"

"Why not legitimize what you do? Perhaps the public has a right to know about the supernatural. Perhaps they should know."